


Pocket Aces

by Hllangel



Category: Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank's never been one to bluff, and this time he's all in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocket Aces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/gifts).



For as long as Hank's owned the saloon, Jake's been a regular. He's in almost every night, as soon as he finishes his dinner, and stays until Hank kicks him out to get some sleep. Sometimes he'll buy a girl for the night; he's a popular customer, but the girls won't tell Hank why they like him so much. So long as they keep doing their jobs and making him money, he doesn't care. All girls gotta have their secrets. 

Sometimes Jake stays longer than closing, with his own bottle of whiskey and a glass. He doesn't mind having someone there when he's not, especially not Jake. When that happens Hank will generally find him sleeping, slumped over the table, empty bottle on it's side somewhere nearby. 

Once in a blue moon, though, Jake breaks his pattern. He'll stay away all night and only come in just as Hank's closing up, kicking out the last of the drunks to go home and sleep it off, checking to be sure the girls aren't keeping men longer than they've paid for. 

When that happens, Hank knows that Jake's looking for something different, and he's happy to give it, because he wants it too. It's not that he doesn't like his girls, he likes them just fine. But sometimes he gets an itch for something and when that happens the girls can't help him. 

At least he's got Jake. 

They never talk about it and they never will. They ain't women, who always need to talk about feelings. 

Instead, Jake will hang back, just inside the doors until everyone's gone. Hank will catch his eyes before going upstairs to his own sparse room, and Jake will follow after another drink or two, pilfered from Hank's private supply in the back. 

Hank grew up in the city, where men told tales of men with deviant tastes. They'd spit out stories of men who like men and boys instead of women. It's not that Hank doesn't like women, or like to fuck women, because he does both. He owns women, sells them, uses them however he likes. Everyone in town knows how much he likes his girls, and that's why none of them stare at him and whisper, like he's seen them do to others. 

He hasn't heard any of the whispers in Colorado Springs, and it's easy enough to find what he needs in Denver, and easy enough to get there, and no one back home would know. He's not exactly the chuch-going type, he's in the wrong business for that, but the rest of the town is, and he doesn't need them finding more reasons to keep him on the outskirts. Not that he cares. 

Jake had been a regular for nearly a year before Hank figured it out. Most nights Jake would pay for his whiskey and a girl and that would be the end. Other nights it was just the whiskey and a few rounds of poker. 

Finally, just when Hank was thinking about hopping the stage to Denver in the next few days, Jake had come in. He'd gone straight for a bottle, and sat himself down in a corner. When the customers thinned out, Hank took a deck of cards and a fresh bottle over to his table and sat down, too. 

"Don't wanna play, Hank," he'd said. "Just wanna drink." 

"How about a girl. Got a new one who's real nice." 

"Don't want a girl tonight," Jake said. He downed what was left in his glass, and said again, "Don't want a _girl_." 

Hank had stayed silent for a minute, drinking his own whiskey and wondering if he was about to make the right call. He didn't think Jake was bluffing, he was too drunk to do that with a straight face, but it never hurt to be too careful when the prize was this dangerous. 

Finally he'd cracked. "Think I can help you there," he'd said. "Stick around until everyone's gone." He'd done just that; Jake sat in his corner, slowly sipping his whiskey and following Hank with his eyes, even if he did look away every time Hank met them. 

When the last old drunk was gone, Hank had put all of his cash in his lockbox and moved towards the stairs and his room. He didn't say anything, but motioned for Jake to follow. 

They hadn't spoken at all. Once Jake was inside Hank's room, he kicked the door shut and started stripping off his shirt, watching as Jake did the same. Jake didn't have much muscle, but Hank knew he was strong enough anyway. His skin was pale, except for his hands and face. 

He was hard, too, and it had looked like he'd been that way for a while. Hank watched as Jake's hand kept drifting closer, but never quite getting where Hank knew he wanted it. He kept diverting, putting his hand on his hips or bringing it up to cross his arms. 

Hank was getting hard, too, but he had never been shy about going after what he wanted, and so he reached down and wrapped his hand around himself, letting his head roll back as gave himself a few strokes. 

He known Jake was watching, and he'd smiled, opening his eyes halfway to look. It hadn't looked like Jake was going to do anything so Hank had done it for him. He'd taken a step forward, until they were standing inches apart and nearly touching. From there, it hadn't been a huge leap to reach out and gather Jake's cock into his palm, closing his fingers and pulling. He'd watched Jake have exactly the same reaction as he had himself, and stroked a few more times, at different speeds, running his thumb over the head to see the reaction. 

After a few minutes Jake had finally joined in. His fingers were smooth, and he'd been almost hesitant at first, but he'd warmed up after a minute, stepping in closer and gripping Hank's hip with his other hand. 

Hank had crowded even closer, pushing Jake until he bumped into the bed and had to sit down. Hank had pushed him back and crawled on top, tucking his hair behind his ears and positioning his legs on either side of Jake's hips. There was no backing out now, no matter what. 

He'd leaned down so that he could line their hips up and take both of them in his hands at once. Jake's breath had been hot on his neck, and Hank grinded his hips down, forcing a breathy moan from Jake's throat. 

"I ain't kissing you," Jake said after a minute. The words came slowly, forced out around each stroke of Hank's hands. 

"I ain't asking you to," Hank'd replied. Kissing was for women anyway. 

The next part had always been the most difficult part - hard to ask for and even worse after it was over, but it was what he needed, and he damn well was going to take it this time. 

With one final stroke, he'd braced himself with one hand and spit in the other, reaching back to get the slickness where it needed to go. He'd felt Jake reach down to get a rhythm going again, and the dual stimulation forced out a low moan. 

After a few minutes, when he was loose enough, he'd sat up straighter and taken hold of Jake's cock, holding him in position and sinking back. It had burned, it always did at first, but he liked it anyway. 

He'd watched Jake as he sank down, taking what he needed, watched the line of his throat as his head tipped back, watched a bead of sweat run down his forehead and into his hair, watched him lick his lips as he tried to catch his breath. _Perfect_ , Hank remembers thinking, _just perfect._

Once he was seated fully, hands on Jake's chest for balance, he'd started moving, slow at first, speeding up as he got used to the friction. Eventually, Jake had gotten over the shock of what Hank was doing to himself and started moving, too. His first few thrusts were hesitant, out of rhythm. 

They'd bounced off each other a few times, until they managed to match up their movements. Hank scraped a thumbnail over Jake's nipples, and felt the shiver all the way through him. 

He kept up his movements until he felt Jake tense up underneath him. Jake groaned again and arched his back up, digging his fingers into Hank's arms spilling inside Hank. 

Hank tucked his hair back again and sat up, keeping Jake inside him as he reached down to stroke himself. It had only taken a minute before he was coming, too, striping Jake's chest with his release. He felt Jake twitch inside him as he came, and that had been the best part, feeling Jake come undone underneath him. 

He pulled off slowly and grabbed his a corner of his sheet to wipe them down. 

The bed was narrow, but it was just wide enough for the two of them to lie side by side, not speaking or touching anymore than was necessary until Jake sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for his clothing. 

Hank had watched the lines of Jake's naked body disappearing with a small pang of loss, one that he didn't want to think about. This was too convenient, too good for both of them. It would probably wreck them in the end, even if it was such a good way to go. 

"Thanks," he'd said when Jake's hand landed on the doorknob. 

He'd though he saw something in Jake's eyes when he'd turned back for one last look, but he told himself later that it was just a trick of the light. 

Sleep had come easily once the door was shut again. 

These days, years after that first encounter, they didn't have to test each other. They knew each other's edges as well as they each knew their own wants and needs. 

Jake's been buying fewer girls and staying past closing more in the last few months. He's been staying longer after, too. Sometimes he'll even fall asleep, arm thrown back above his head, and Hank will wake up from his own doze to cover them with a quilt so they don't freeze to death in the cool Colorado nights. That would be a sight for the town. It'd probably take the good doc with them if she was to find them like that. 

It's comfortable, this thing, but it's not enough, not anymore. Jake's hanging back tonight, just as Hank expected. 

They follow the usual routine right up until the door of Hank's bedroom closes behind them. 

He backs Jack up until he's flush against the door, gripping the knob with one hand and Hank's arm with the other for balance. 

Hank leans in close and whispers, "I still ain't no woman," before closing the small gap between them and kissing Jake for the first time. 

When Jake opens up beneath him, it's as deadly as he thought it would be, as he'd known it would from the very beginning. He's got a deadly hand, but there's no going back; he doesn't want to. There's nothing left on the table; he's all in.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I can hear my childhood sobbing in the background as I write this. Unbeta'ed, so any mistakes are my own. Happy Yuletide! I hope you enjoy this!


End file.
